


Bad Ideas

by Fitzrove



Series: More Love [1]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Morse, Episode: s05e06 Icarus, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Kissing, Literature, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Premature Ejaculation, Pretentious Quotes are Morse's Kink, Sharing a Bed, i should make that a recurring tag lol, no really, shirley and george are just friends with benefits in this ok there's no cheating going on, the tropes in this episode are wild, very light angst tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:49:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18759532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fitzrove/pseuds/Fitzrove
Summary: The story of how Trewlove got her fake husband to sleep with her in the bed for one night. Morse is very awkward about it.





	Bad Ideas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jasmiinitee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmiinitee/gifts).



The first day of their undercover gig had passed alright, and they’d had supper quite late - only when there weren’t any more clues Morse could run around looking at, trying to get a feel of the school and its residents. So far, so good.

It wasn’t like the house they’d settled in was a _palace_ , but had it not been just for an undercover assignment, Morse would’ve probably started to quite like it as time went by. He’d taken all his records with him - at least the ones he liked most - so he had practically everything he needed. Another odd thing he noticed was that the rooms weren’t quite as dark and cold as his flat sometimes felt like, when night was approaching, even though the house was undoubtedly older than Morse’s building. Probably as old as the school, by the look of it.

Or maybe the reason for the drastically different atmosphere wasn’t just the colour of the wallpapers and the fact that everything smelled different, dusty and unfamiliarly comforting. Maybe the reason was WPC Trewlove.

After washing the dishes - she washed, Morse dried - Trewlove had settled on the sofa, with her legs crossed under her. Seeing her out of uniform, in a soft-looking pink shirt and a pair of loose trousers, still felt odd. Morse was much more used to the contrast of dark navy blue framing her fairness, but it wasn’t like the look didn’t suit her. It did, very much.

She’d piled a couple of books on the table next to the sofa, and she had one open in her lap, but she talked to him when the fancy struck her. Morse didn’t have the heart to flee the room, so he ended up taking refuge at the kitchen table, with the day’s paper open in front of him.

With some questions, it was easier to focus on the crossword and give Trewlove one-word answers, as polite as he could manage. With others, it was very difficult to do _anything_ without blushing up to his forehead.

They’d talked about George Fancy, the way he kept looking at Trewlove when he thought she didn’t notice. When it had come up in conversation, she’d told Morse that they weren’t anything serious at the moment, just friends messing around, and somehow hearing that stung.

Even though Morse wasn’t the best of mates with Fancy, he did care about him. It wasn’t something he’d go around announcing to people, but in a way, the boy reminded him of himself when he’d first started out. Although Morse had probably had more brains, even as a DC.

Nevertheless, that sort of heartbreak wasn’t something he wished on _anyone_. Not after Claudine. He didn’t tell Trewlove that, instead just shrugging and going back to the crossword.

“Enough about me”, Trewlove said, after a pause. She’d started opening her ponytail.

“Should I be worried about another Mrs Morse in the making?”

Morse lifted his head, so surprised that the look on his face was almost _alarmed_. He did that just in time to see how Trewlove’s sun-blonde hair fell to her shoulders, undone, and it was very hard to take his eyes off her after that.

Especially when she picked up a brush and started going through her hair, leaning back against the sofa. It was so casual, _domestic_ , even, that Morse didn’t know what to do with what he was seeing. He shifted in his chair a bit, letting go of the pencil in his hand.

“Um”, Morse said. That made Trewlove look up from her book, intently, like she was planning her next move in a particularly elaborate game of chess against an unpredictable opponent. Morse shrugged sheepishly.

“Not really”, he said. “You know me. Easy come, easy go.”

“Right”, Trewlove said. “That’s how it goes, sometimes.”

“Always, more like”, Morse muttered. When Trewlove looked at him, tilting her head, he let out a slightly self-pitying chuckle. He hadn’t meant for a night they were technically spending on the job, as colleagues, to turn into a heart-to-heart. He never did, but sometimes it just happened.

“No. I’m alright, really”, Morse said. He didn’t have time to get back to the crossword before Trewlove spoke again.

“Come sit with me, Morse”, she said.

Her tone was light, but the look on her face was very no-nonsense, and Morse couldn’t help but wonder what _that_ was about. He stared at her, eyes wide, trying to see the answer to a million unasked questions in Trewlove’s dark eyes, but they were unreadable. At least to him.

“Uh, it’s alright, I’m -”

“Please”, Trewlove said. “I’d fancy the company.”

Morse spent a couple of confused seconds rubbing at the back of his neck. Trewlove was still looking straight at him, a clear challenge. Morse wasn’t one to shy away from those, or at least he very much liked to tell himself so, so he walked over and sat next to her. A polite distance away, of course, but he did it nonetheless.

“These must’ve been left here by the Ivories”, Trewlove said, closing the book she was reading at the moment and picking another one up from the side table. It was a pale pink, but Morse didn’t have time to look at the title before Trewlove opened the book, bringing a finger up to her lips to get it wet enough to turn the pages. He found himself staring again, and he had to turn his eyes away bashfully. Trewlove pretended not to notice.

“I thought it might help with our act to look through them”, she said. “If I’m supposed to be the doting wife of an English teacher. Could make you more convincing, too.”

Morse let out a small huff, trying not to let the attention she was drawing to their undercover assignment get under his skin. There was no reason for him to chastise her for talking about it, since they were completely alone, but something about the playful way she said _wife_ made his heart skip a beat.

“Depends on what it is”, Morse said, looking at her. “I’m afraid we’re not focusing too much on anything modern.”

It was a good thing, to be honest. He _was_ pretty well-read, even if he said it himself, but he really didn’t spend too much of his free time on literary analysis, per se. Or at least not in a way that he could teach to a classroom full of boys who thought they knew everything, but in reality, knew nothing. Old classics were safe, and technically, Morse was even qualified to teach them.

Trewlove leafed through the book to the first page, presumably to check out a detail. The paper was quite thin, but the book was in remarkably good condition. _Good_ \- had Mr Ivory been the careless type with his things, it would’ve ended up driving Morse crazy. He didn’t like books being maltreated.

“1856”, Trewlove said. “Madame Bovary.”

“I’ve actually never read that one”, Morse said. Trewlove lifted her eyes from the book.

“Something against the French?”

“No”, Morse said, letting out a somewhat offended huff. He wasn’t prejudiced in his tastes, as far as good literature was concerned, even though he _did_ have a soft spot for Shakespeare and the like. “Never got around to it, that’s all.”

“Well, listen up, then”, Trewlove said, a smile on her face. She shifted on the sofa, almost unnoticeably inching closer to Morse as she drew her legs up from under her, slumping against the back of the sofa in a more relaxed position than Morse had probably ever seen her before crossing her legs. It was _very_ curious, to see her with her hair and her guard down.

“ _She was not happy--she never had been. Whence came this insufficiency in life--this instantaneous turning to decay of everything on which she leaned?_ ” Trewlove said. Her voice was soft, her brows slightly furrowed as she focused on the page, and Morse couldn’t help but stare, _again._ At her red lips as they moved.

_“But if there were somewhere a being strong and beautiful, a valiant nature, full at once of exaltation and refinement, a poet's heart in an angel's form, a lyre with sounding chords ringing out elegiac epithalamia to heaven, why, perchance, should she not find him? Ah! How impossible! Besides, nothing was worth the trouble of seeking it; everything was a lie. Every smile hid a yawn of boredom, every joy a curse, all pleasure satiety, and the sweetest kisses left upon your lips only the unattainable desire for a greater delight.”_

It took Morse a while to realise the passage had ended. To be honest, he didn’t notice until Trewlove brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning slightly closer.

“You studied Classics, right?” she asked. Morse almost answered with just a ‘ _mmh_ ’, before realising Trewlove was probably expecting actual words.

He didn’t know if it was a jab at how dazed he’d probably looked while Trewlove had read to him, or just plain curiosity. Either way, it should’ve been obvious to her, at this point.

“Yes”, Morse said. “For a while, at Lonsdale.”

“Did you ever write poetry?”

That was unexpected. Not ‘ _this should be your cup of tea, then_ ’, not even ‘ _what a bloody boring thing to spend your time on’_ , but… poetry. He’d heard enough comments about his ‘18th century haircut’ during his university years to know he _did_ sometimes look like someone from an earlier time. That was probably the reason he’d been chosen to pose as a teacher, instead of Strange or… well. Instead of Strange.

“Why do you ask?” Morse asked softly. Trewlove didn’t bother hiding her smile anymore. Morse swallowed as she leaned close, closer than she’d ever been to him.

She could’ve kissed him, right there and then. Morse did have enough of his senses left to chastise himself for such a thought. They were working, and there he was, getting distracted by unrelated things. The very thing he always scolded Fancy and everybody else about.

“ _A poet’s heart in an angel’s form_ ”, Trewlove said.

So _that_ was what it all was about. Morse felt an uncomfortably sweet warmth creep up on him, starting somewhere deep in his back, then going up his shoulder blades before settling under his jaw.

And then it spread across his face like a wildfire. He tried to say something, but no words came out, just a small sound that didn’t really mean anything. Bloody hell.

Trewlove put her hand on his shoulder, getting even closer. Morse didn’t stop her.

“WPC Trewlove”, Morse said weakly, even though his eyes kept wandering to her lips, down her neck, to the collar of her shirt. He realised he’d never seen her with her shoulders bared. He had a strange urge to find out, now, to touch her and let her touch him.

“This isn’t appropriate, I -”

“Morse”, Trewlove said. “It’s Shirley.”

“ _Shirley_ ”, Morse said. “God. Please.”

That was all it took. One word. Shirley closed the book with a thud, and let it fall to the floor. (Gently, but it almost made Morse cringe all the same.)

Once her hands were free, she wrapped her arms around Morse. It was odd, to be so close to someone he’d worked with for such a long time. He could smell the slightest hint of a perfume in her hair, probably something she didn’t wear to work, but used when going out, so often that its scent was left lingering in her flat. Or someone else’s, if she so decided.

He couldn’t quite make out what it was. Something between a fruit and a flower. Certainly sweeter than he’d anticipated.

“You’re all tensed up”, Shirley said, rubbing gentle circles on his back and shoulders, and only then did Morse realise how badly hunched his shoulders actually were. Her hands were warm, and Morse could feel how soft they were even through his shirt.

“Does this always happen when you’ve got a girl over?”

“I don’t know”, Morse managed to say. Shirley looked at him, her smile turning a bit more sly.

“Judging by how red you got when you were interviewing that prostitute, I’d say it’s happened before”, Shirley said, her voice almost a whisper. Morse closed his eyes for a second, and he had to draw in a long breath, just because having someone’s warm lips almost touching his face once more felt _so good._

“She was just trying to make me uncomfortable”, Morse said. “To use it to her advantage.”

Shirley’s lips brushed against his cheek. It made his skin tingle all over, and Morse was afraid he was going to shatter soon, since his self-control was being stretched so thin.

He put his hands on Shirley’s waist. She let him, but brought a hand down to make him tighten his grip a little. Alright. Morse could work with that - different girls had different preferences.

“Perhaps”, Shirley said. “But she succeeded. I wonder how far she would’ve gone if you’d let her, even with me in the room.”

Morse’s mouth fell open. Shirley took the opportunity to kiss him.

She knew what she wanted from the start, holding on to Morse’s face to hold him in place, parting his lips with her tongue. Morse let out a long, low groan, hanging on to her to keep himself from drifting into too-deep waters, from getting utterly lost in the feeling.

After they pulled apart, Shirley gave him another kiss, on his temple. She didn’t get very far away from him, though, instead just keeping on stroking his face. Her other hand went down his side, and Morse didn’t even realise what she was doing before he felt a gentle pressure on his thigh. His inner thigh.

“My, she was right”, Shirley said. “You’re eager to please.”

“Shirley”, Morse said. “Don’t stop.”

He really felt like a bloody schoolboy again, a dumb lad in university. Even though Shirley was a fair bit younger than him, she was playing him like an instrument, _and he liked it_. It made him feel good, being looked after, and he’d missed it terribly in the past few weeks. Months.

“Come here”, Shirley said. She pulled Morse close, almost bloody climbed in his lap, and buried her face in his neck. Morse tried to think about everything but the way her thighs felt, when pressed against his own, as he was already uncomfortable enough in his trousers without any additional pressure.

She pressed her lips against Morse’s skin, working her way up his neck, the kisses getting rougher now. Morse resisted the urge to squirm - it had been a long time since he’d got _that_ sort of attention, too long - and tried to catch his breath even as she kept going. It proved difficult.

“Shirley, Shirley”, Morse panted. “Don’t leave any… please, _ah_ , not above the collar. The boys would have a field day.”

“Fair enough, pet”, Shirley positively _purred_.

Morse drew in a sharp breath, his mouth falling open. It made Shirley smile against his face, and the next kiss she gave him was considerably gentler, a warm, feather-light touch against his jawline.

“Oh, you _like_ that, don’t you”, she said, matter-of-factly rather than presenting it as a question. “That’s the word.”

Morse just stared at her, too scandalised and embarrassed and _smitten_ to answer, before shoving his hands in her hair as gently as he could and pulling her close to kiss her properly. On her lips, deep and slow, taking his time to get to know how she liked to kiss him and trying to give back, keep the balance.

She was at least a _bit_ flustered after that, a redder shade spreading over her cream-fair cheeks. It was very just.

“You’re beautiful”, Morse said. He meant it, and he truly appreciated the way he could _touch_ , to have someone near and feel her breathe against him. Shirley moved her hands up, to grab his, pulling them down to put them on her shoulders.

“I know, I know”, she said. “You’re sweet too, with those big blue eyes.”

She kissed him again, demanding. Morse held on to her shoulders, and at first, he was too distracted by soft skin and warm lips and shared breaths to notice that she was pushing him down on his back.

He did notice when she grabbed his wrists firmly, almost yanking them off her shoulders to pin them down above Morse’s head.

“I want to feel you”, Shirley said. “You’re so skittish and fidgety all the time. Let’s see if you can stop those brains from working overtime for _once_ in your life.”

“Very well”, Morse said. It wasn’t very assertive, since Shirley was lying practically on top of him, but it was _something_.

Shirley took her time to get him needy, and Morse melted under her advances rather quickly. It had been too long since he'd had the opportunity to get close to someone, to have gentle, curious hands on him. When Shirley let go of his wrists to run her hands through his hair again, Morse didn't hesitate to touch her. Move his hands down her side, gently press them against the small of her back, pulling her closer. When he slid a hand between them to cup a breast, she let out a huff.

“About time”, Shirley said, and there was a sly smile on her face again as she leaned in to press her red lips against his, just a chaste peck. Morse chased her down for another before she had time to pull back, which made her hum softly.

“I was starting to feel sorry for myself, you know. Married to a prim and proper man, in a little house in the middle of nowhere”, Shirley said. “Makes a wife awfully frustrated.”

“Is that why you're so… mhm”, Morse said, interrupted by Shirley running a hand down his side to drag her fingernails over his hip. The touch made Morse's cock jump, and when Shirley's hand was where it was, he had no way of hiding it from her. He swallowed hard, and Shirley stared at him, and it certainly didn't make him blush _less_.

“So what?” Shirley asked. Her hands were at his waist again.

“I don't know”, Morse muttered. “I just… _god_.”

“Is there something you'd like me to do?” she asked, very innocently, though her dark eyes seemed even darker than they usually were, and her whole face had heated up.

“Something that a married couple ought to do in bed. We can't have rumours spreading about the Morses having a queer preference for indecency, can we?”

Morse blinked once, twice, and Shirley held on to him a bit tighter.

“Either way is fine by me, though”, she said. “Or perhaps you’d like me to go at you on the floor? I think it might -”

“Shirley, for God’s sake”, Morse managed to get out. He hadn’t been that embarrassed _or_ turned on in a good while. “Just take me to bed and… and…”

He didn’t know how to put it to words. It felt odd to be saying those things to _Shirley_ , even when she was very obviously off-duty with her hair down and her cheeks flushed and her eyes glazed over with lust, _for him_ , and Morse hadn’t had to discuss those sorts of matters out loud in a while. Claudine hadn’t been the type to make him beg first, so the last person to have teased him like that must’ve been that bloody prostitute. The mental image of that interrogation, with _Shirley in the room with them_ as the woman asked Morse about his _type_ , didn’t exactly help the situation.

“And what, Morse?” Shirley asked. “You do know how to speak. Would be an awful waste of those sweet lips otherwise.”

Morse stared at her for a second before letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Have your way with me”, Morse said. “Please.”

“Very good, pet. I’ll be glad to”, Shirley said, softly against his ear, before kissing him on the cheek.

She got up from the sofa and Morse’s lap, leaving him a mess, still lying flat against the cushions. She gave him a moment to breathe before reaching out her hand to help him up.

“The stairs are creaky”, she said. “We mustn’t run.”

They didn't, in the end, though Morse did stumble a bit when Shirley grabbed him by his collar and pushed him against the wall to steal a kiss in the middle of climbing. It was worth it, not only for the kiss, but also the very un-Shirley giggle he got out of her when he pulled her back for another. It felt good, and Morse calmed down a bit worry-wise, even though the way Shirley kept pawing at him did nothing to make him less ready and desperate.

The hinges of the bedroom door were a bit rusty, and they let out a grating screech when Morse pushed it open.

“Easy there, tiger”, Shirley said. Morse did his best to hide the almost-flinch that particular word caused, and Shirley either ignored it politely or was too far gone to care.

“We can’t break things down around here”, she said. “It’d be a different matter if we lived here for real.”

Morse raised an eyebrow, but let Shirley back him down until his legs hit the edge of the bed. He almost toppled over, and she didn’t exactly help the situation with how her hands were going down his body again, so Morse thought it better to just give up and sit down while he still had the chance to do that himself.

“Would it?” Morse asked.

“I’d consider it”, Shirley said, straddling him. _That_ was quite a bit more direct than what he was used to, and also a clever plot - he needed both his arms to wrap them around her and hold her up, so he was left helpless to do anything about the way she was feeling him up.

It made him self-conscious, all of a sudden, to know for a fact that his shirt was going to come off soon. Shirley _had_ seen him in a white T-shirt once, which was a lot less clothes than most people he’d slept with had seen before going to bed with him, but Morse was still a bit worried about what she was going to think. It wasn’t like anyone had called him scrawny to his face, but he had felt it in how carefully some girls touched him. He didn’t _want_ their pity.

“Stop thinking so hard, pet”, Shirley said softly, brushing a few strands of hair away from his face, behind his ear. “Do I have to remind you?”

“Please”, Morse said, and she _did_. He was pushed on his back, and Shirley’s hands were rushed and hungry when she came at him again, her lips sugar-sweet against the sensitive skin between his neck and jaw.

And when he was breathless once more, she swiftly pulled his shirt off, and Morse honestly didn’t mind. Not when he got her warm hands against his skin, sneaking under his vest before pulling it off as well, gentle and curious. He did feel her rather long nails every once in a while, too, but they were more just playful scrapes than actual scratches now.

“I like your freckles”, Shirley said. Her hair fell to her shoulders in a veil of sun as she leaned over him. “And your smile. Wish I got to see more of that.”

That made Morse smile, almost on instinct, and he didn’t even realise before Shirley laughed at him. It was very bright and lovely, and even though it made Morse blush once again (bloody hell, he really wasn’t getting a break tonight, was he), his smile grew wider, too.

“Well, you have it now”, Morse said. “All to yourself.”

“True”, Shirley said. “Better make the most of it while it’s around.”

She didn’t kiss him, because Morse pulled her down before she had the chance. Her smile was even sweeter when he could feel it against his lips.

Shirley made him untangle his hands from her hair eventually. Morse let out a disappointed whine, but forgot the grievance committed against him as soon as he realised _why_. She sat up in his lap, looking down at him with intent, before grabbing the hem of her shirt. Morse caught a glimpse of the bare skin underneath, but before he had a chance to think it further, Shirley let her shirt fall back down.

“You know what”, she said, climbing off him. “Get your trousers off. Gets done faster if you’re not distracted.”

With that, she sat on the edge of the bed and turned her back to him, and he was left staring for a moment. Her back and her long fair hair falling over it wasn’t bad to look at in the slightest, so Morse definitely disagreed on whether it was doing him any favours distractedness-wise.

“I don’t hear your belt opening”, Shirley said. Her shirt was already on the floor, and Morse was mesmerised by the sight of her slim fingers working the clasp of her brassiere open. “Do get on with it.”

“Right”, he breathed out, and did as he was told.

Morse initially expected Shirley to push him on his back again and have him like that (and he would’ve rather appreciated it, if only for the view), but she didn’t do that, instead rolling over on her back. It made Morse swallow hard, and at that moment, he realised he was naked in bed with _another police officer_ , while technically on the job. And it was _Shirley Trewlove_ , brilliant, sharp-witted Shirley with her dark eyes, looking up at him with her hair spread out against the pillows.

He was a goner for her. He didn’t mind.

“Time for you to do some of the work”, Shirley said. As if that wasn’t enough, she also spread her legs a bit, to make room for him.

Morse crawled over, leaning down to kiss her. Even though she _had_ got him rather well worked up during the course of the evening, he was still _polite_ with his advances, or at least tried to be. (It wouldn’t have felt right to do anything else, since he was quite ready to give Shirley anything she asked for, at this point.)

She moaned softly against his lips, and shoved her hand between his legs. Morse’s breath hitched in anticipation, but Shirley ended up just grabbing his thigh instead, running her hand down it, careful not to touch his cock.

“Morse, pet”, Shirley said, looking at him through her lashes. “You’ll have to stand up for yourself, every once in a while. Can’t say I don’t like it when you go along with me, but you can’t let people walk all over you, alright? Not everyone’s as gentle as I am.”

“I know”, Morse said. He really hadn’t been prepared for such an insight _when he was between Shirley’s legs_ , in not-actually-their bedroom, posing as a married couple.

(At least they were doing a good job, apparently. Very believable. Morse managed to hold back the slightly hysterical laugh that wanted to escape his mouth.)

“What I mean is”, Shirley said, “that I’d really like you to shag me now. Alright?”

“Alright”, Morse said. Jesus Christ, he was already out of breath, and they hadn’t even started yet. “Alright.”

Shirley pulled him down for one more kiss, and after that, she impatiently guided him inside her with her hands firmly on his hips. Morse couldn’t help but gasp sharply at the sudden feeling, of her unyielding warmth around him. That made Shirley smile and stroke her hands along his sides.

The first few thrusts were mostly just them trying to find a common footing, to fit their bodies together in a way that made things as good and easy as possible. It wasn’t until the fourth or so that Shirley let herself relax against the mattress, the tension in her shoulders melting away.

“Jesus”, Shirley mumbled. She felt and looked like a dream, with her fair skin and hair and her dark eyes, and Morse found himself getting lost.

“Could you go just a bit - _yes_ , pet, good, don’t stop!”

She wrapped her arms around him again, probably to get him closer, and Morse didn’t realise she had ulterior motives as well before he first felt her scratch him, after a particularly rough thrust that left them both gasping for air, even getting a low, almost raspy sound out of Shirley. It made him speed up the pace, and it became a cycle, of her egging him on and him giving into it, of them looking at each other and getting pleasure out of shared smiles and sly looks and -

Morse couldn’t handle it, not for a minute more, even though it felt like a much shorter time. Nothing could’ve been long enough.

“ _Shirley_ ”, Morse said, leaning in to kiss her. She gave his back another long scratch, probably strong enough to leave a mark, but he was too caught up in the pleasure to care.

“Shirley, I - you’re…”

He lost track, he couldn’t think anymore, and he was toppling over the edge. For a couple of seconds, there was no room in his brain for the cold dread and shame of actual intelligent thoughts. Just a warm glow.

“Oh my god, Morse”, Shirley said, after he’d spent a while just gasping against her neck, trying to make sense of the world again.

“Did you just -”

“ _Yes_ ”, Morse said. “Oh my god. I didn’t mean to.”

It was a weak defense, and the situation could have turned icy and awkward lightning-fast, had Shirley not raised her eyebrows high and simply laughed at him.

It wasn’t mean-spirited, just _very_ amused, but Morse might’ve still been a bit offended. Shirley’s soft hands on his cheeks saved it, though, and so did the way she pulled him closer.

“You really are something, aren’t you, pet”, Shirley said, almost wheezing. Morse was too spent for the _pet name_ to actually make his gut clench, but his face still heated up at that quite terribly. It seemed to please Shirley, who ran a hand down his cheek and the side of his neck, all the way down to his chest.

“Oh, you're even redder than before. I wonder why”, Shirley said, teasing. Her hand slipped downwards to grasp his waist, and Morse drew in a long breath.

“Maybe because I’m bloody embarrassed”, Morse muttered. He _was_ , and trying to explain to Shirley that _it wasn't always like this_ was probably only going to make the situation more awkward for him.

“I mean, you should be. Pet. But I'm pretty sure that blush of yours just turned five shades redder”, Shirley said.

Morse cleared his throat.

“I don't think it works that way”, he said. Shirley rolled her eyes, moving her hands up to his chest again, to press them over his heart.

“It's a pretty sight, for sure”, Shirley said. Morse gave her a careful look at that, almost _bashful_ , and it made her smile. He just couldn't help it - it wasn't like it was the first time he'd been called _pretty_ , or a good boy, but it felt different when it was _Shirley_. Who was all brains at work, who seemed to be able to focus on the case even when everybody else was getting distracted over trivial matters. She was a good copper.

They spent a moment in silence, Shirley touching him gently, feeling his slowly steadying heartbeat.

“You do know this isn't going to cut it for you, right?” Shirley asked. “Get up. You've got work to do. I'm pretty sure you're not the type of husband to leave a lady unsatisfied.”

Well. If he hadn't been that before, apparently he was now.

Morse got one more kiss - just a brush of lips against his, but it was better than nothing - before scrambling up and off Shirley. She sat up, rolling her shoulders and stretching out her neck a little, and looked like she would've started rolling her sleeves up, had she been wearing something.

“Down on your knees, on the floor”, Shirley said. “Do you want a pillow?”

“I'll manage”, Morse said, and he very much hoped he would. He didn't need any additional embarrassment, so it was better to just do as he was told.

Even though he wasn't able to get hard anymore, and probably wasn't going to for a while, Morse couldn't get enough of looking at Shirley. Even as he was getting off the bed to kneel in the almost-too-narrow space between its edge and the wall, he was staring at her hair as she ran her fingers through it, her soft red lips when she pressed them together in a tight, not-really-displeased line.

She sat on the edge of the bed, and promptly buried and twisted her fingers in Morse's hair to tell him to get closer. He did, and drew in a long breath (Shirley shivered at that) before pressing his lips against her thigh. First, it was just a small, chaste kiss, but it made his lips tingle all the same. He gave her another, longer and messier kiss, before gently dragging his teeth inwards along her thigh.

“Mmh”, Shirley said, shamelessly appreciative, and Morse felt even more blood rush to his cheeks. She shifted a bit on the bed, before gently starting to run her fingers through his hair.

“You’re so smooth, pet. Well done with the shave this morning.”

“... thanks”, Morse muttered. He hadn’t really done it with these sorts of activities in mind - it was more because he’d wanted to look even remotely well-kept on his first day as a teacher. But there was no denying that he was _very glad_ for having done a precise job, at the moment. It was the least he could give her.

He didn’t initially look up at Shirley, but she noticed him hesitate, and brought a hand to his chin to make him lift his eyes. Her dark ones were warm, but there was an impatient edge there, too. Morse saw it in the way she kept looking down at his lips.

“Do you need me to walk you through it?” Shirley asked. Morse chuckled, kissing her on her thigh one more time before answering.

“Shirley, love, I wasn’t born yesterday”, Morse said. Shirley shrugged, looking both flustered and flattered at the word that had just slipped out without thinking. Morse was too red already to be embarrassed about it - when he was kneeling at her feet and pretending to be her doting husband, he was probably allowed to call her that.

Morse had got quite a lot of practice at going down on a woman when he'd been with Monica. It was one of the many things he ought to thank her for.

It’d been different than with people he hadn’t been able to keep for long - not that he wouldn’t have rather been with Monica for longer, he would’ve loved to, but anyway. When they’d had time to really get to know each other, learn a common way to love, _making love_ had also become something entirely different than what he had when he only saw someone for a couple of dates.

She’d told him what she wanted, in no unclear terms, and taught him how if he didn’t know. He appreciated it.

“Let’s see what you can do, then”, Shirley said.

Morse leaned in and put his mouth on her.

He started out slow, just the act of tasting her taking some getting used to. She was slick and hot, because of Morse almost as much as she was in her own right, and the salty taste on his tongue was both familiar and new.

Shirley first moaned properly when Morse gave her clit a gentle suck, before getting back to business as usual as if nothing had happened. It made Morse’s ears burn, for some reason, but he was still rather proud - at least he was doing something right. The way he could feel her nails against his scalp was unmistakable, and it sent red-hot shivers running down his spine.

“ _Yes_ ”, Shirley said, and that was all the confirmation Morse needed to step up his game, to finally move beyond small licks and close-mouthed kisses. It left Shirley panting, spreading her legs to get more, and just hearing her was enough to make _him_ want it more.

“I should’ve known the moment I laid eyes on you, pet”, Shirley said, through slightly shaky breaths. “Everything about you is just so… Christ. No wonder half the station wants to sleep w- _Morse_!”

Morse had been caught by her words mid-kiss, and the way his mouth fell open from the shock didn’t leave much room for any particularly artful moves with his tongue.

“ _What_ ”, Morse asked, pulling back just enough that he could actually form words and make them heard, instead of muttering something unintelligible (and probably also ticklish) against Shirley.

“I wasn’t supposed to say that. Nevermind”, Shirley said, taking one hand out of Morse’s hair to rub at her neck a tad awkwardly. Morse just stared at her, flabbergasted.

“You’ve got perfect timing, I might add. Get back to it. I want the edge back, _now_ ”, Shirley said.

The words came out as a barked-out order, almost, and Morse could very much imagine that Shirley would make a very fine detective sergeant some day, if she got the opportunity.

Her voice was usually so clear and the looks on her face so sweet that it was hard not to like her. But when she was ordering Morse around, determined but not arrogant, there was nothing he wanted to do more than listen and obey. And so he did.

Shirley slid her hands down his cheeks, stroking his face gently before laying her hands on top of Morse’s, where they were resting on her thighs. It felt good, to be anchored like that, and the way her insistent fingers wrapped around his wrists to hold on properly honestly made his breath hitch. Not that it was particularly easy to get any air, when he was so caught up in her taste.

Morse didn’t realise how lost he’d got in it all - Shirley’s feel and warmth on his lips, her hands stroking at his wrists, the soft whiny sounds she was making - until she rocked her hips against him, stronger than before. It was more a shudder than an actual shove, but Morse still had to resist the urge to pull back. Instead, he leaned even closer, sealing his lips against her and doubling down, even giving her a light nibble, first up, then down. It made her breath hitch.

He could tell she was close, but it still came as a surprise to him when she finally tensed up against him, letting out a sound that was _loud_ , something between a cry and a wail. She clamped her hand over her mouth soon after, but hearing something that openly wanton from _Shirley_ made Morse’s heart beat faster. It was alien and new and it felt _good_.

Morse knew she was finished, but he didn’t stop until she pushed him away.

“Thank you”, Shirley said, breathless, and leaned down to kiss him. Morse eagerly responded to that - he liked kissing people himself, sure, but _being kissed_ with such enthusiasm was something else altogether. Morse knew Shirley could probably taste herself on his lips.

Shirley helped him up and to the bed, only to push him on his back yet again. Morse laughed against the kiss he got on his cheek, and Shirley smiled as she gave him another, just a light brush against his upper lip.

She was soft and warm against his chest, her breathing slowly evening out. Morse almost wanted to say something as she ran her hands up his arms - _petted him_ \- but it probably wasn’t the best idea, when he was still dizzy from her. The only words that came to mind were _‘God, Shirley, I love you_ ’, and no matter how dedicated they were to their undercover gig, he had a feeling Shirley wouldn’t appreciate it.

So he just brushed a couple strands of silky blonde hair behind her ear, letting her look at him and trying to not start blushing _again_ , only because he was being looked at. (By WPC Trewlove, naked and on top of him.)

“I’m getting cold”, Shirley said, eventually. “Better not wait until midnight to wash up, with the plumbing we’ve got.”

“Right”, Morse said. He had _no_ idea where his clothes were, and joining Shirley in the bathroom seemed way too daunting a concept, despite the almost-invitation she threw at him. He’d need to have a dig around his bag. Good that they’d brought them upstairs almost right after arriving - having to wander around the house stark-naked was the last thing he wanted.

He was at least half-decently dressed - pyjama trousers on, but no vest yet - when Shirley came back, wearing pyjamas, her hair done to a loose braid.

“It’s half past ten“, she informed him. Morse didn’t have time to respond, much less actually turn around, as she just walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

“Don’t take too long”, Shirley whispered, before leaning closer to press a soft kiss on his shoulder blade, on a spot where Morse knew a patch of faint freckles from last summer remained.

“It’s going to be an important day tomorrow”, Shirley said. “Mr Morse.”

Morse scoffed.

“I can’t say I’m terribly excited about meeting the… students”, Morse said. He knew what the public school lot was like - rich, spoiled, insufferable, at least most of them. Teenage boys were at an age where it wasn’t particularly pleasant to deal with them in a larger group. One thoughtless lad was easy enough to point on the right track - or at least a somewhat right direction - but when there were more of them, it grew increasingly difficult very quickly.

“You’ll manage”, Shirley said, her hands going down Morse’s arms. He actually shivered at the touch, not only because the room was cold and Shirley’s hands were very warm, but also because it was _Shirley touching him._ WPC Trewlove.

Morse nodded half-heartedly, and that seemed to be enough for her.

“What are you going to do?” Morse asked, after she’d let go of him to finally let him pull on his vest.

“Introduce myself to our neighbours, of course”, Shirley said. “Have a look around. I’ll start with Mrs Ivory.”

“Alright”, Morse said. It seemed like a solid plan, and at this time of the night, _after something like what they’d just done_ , he really wasn’t in the mood - or really capable - of giving instructions on detective work. Shirley was a sharp girl. She had it figured out, and Morse wished he could’ve said the same about himself.

/ / /

It took Morse some time to get cleaned up, especially since he was left flabbergasted when he realised that Shirley had left long scratch-marks on his back. Very red, but not too deep or painful, and there were a lot of them.

He’d known all along that she had long nails, of course, but with how embarrassingly short he’d lasted, he wouldn’t have thought she’d had the time. She really was the no-nonsense type, then, not one to waste time. Morse liked that in people, even though he _was_ a bit taken aback by the fact that he hadn’t noticed anything while it was happening.

It wasn’t as if it was unlike him to get lost in the moment. It definitely wasn’t, sex sometimes being the only thing that could make his mind shut off for a bit, but it still made him swallow hard when he thought about it.

/ / /

Morse made his way back to the bedroom to find Shirley sitting on the bed with her legs crossed, a book open in her lap, the small table lamp turned on. Apparently, she’d gone downstairs and fetched _Madame Bovary_ while she’d been waiting.

She looked up at him, and smiled at how hesitant he was.

“Come on”, Shirley said, closing the book and reaching to the nightstand to put it away. “Turn off the light, please.”

Morse was about to protest, but he _was_ tired, and it would’ve felt downright rude to refuse. He’d already slept with her in the figurative sense, so it was alright to do the literal one, too.

It would’ve also been very stupid not to take the chance she was offering him. He’d missed it so much, _having someone to hold you when the wolves came circling._ He knew Shirley didn’t have any particular interest in being that for him in the long-term, since she’d said so herself - she’d said that she was young, and she had to put career first. She wasn’t really looking for anyone at the moment, but she did seem to enjoy Morse’s company.

That was enough. Morse was grateful for the chance to pretend, for just one night.

He flicked off the light and walked across the room to crawl into bed with Shirley. She’d pulled the covers off already.

“Just one blanket, I’m afraid”, she said. Morse shrugged, offering her a small smile. He had no idea what to talk to her about, now that the hazy feeling of belonging was dissipating, and the dim yellow light probably turned his eyes into a see-through mirror. If he talked too much, she would know how he felt, and she’d think differently of him.

Or then Morse was just overthinking it. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“That’s alright”, he eventually said. “I’m fine with shari-”

“You’ll have to snuggle up to me”, Shirley said. Morse smiled sheepishly, but did as he was told. Shirley turned off the table lamp.

It took Morse some time to find a comfortable way to hold on. He spent some time carefully moving his hand along her waist, to find the best place to put it. The other one was under her neck. She was warm, and even though her steady breathing should’ve calmed him down, he had to take deep breaths to keep his hands from shaking. It was terribly _much_ , to be so close after such a long time, with someone who wanted to be there.

“Stop squirming”, Shirley mumbled. “I want to sleep.”

"Sorry”, Morse whispered. Shirley still turned her head to press a soft kiss against his palm.

“Just kiss me goodnight”, she said. “That’s what a husband should do.”

Morse leaned in to press a kiss behind her ear, then another lower on the back of her neck.

“Goodnight”, he said. Shirley let out a contented sigh, relaxing against the mattress.

“Goodnight, Morse. Sleep well.”

Morse spent a long while awake, but eventually, he found his eyes slipping shut. The night was quiet, and not hearing the sounds of the city right outside his window like he normally did felt odd.

This could’ve been his life, in another life, even though he didn’t really believe in those.

/ / /

Morse woke up with the chilly morning air outside the window still a dark abyss. He’d curled up on one side of the bed, and his feet were sticking out from under the blanket.

It took him a while to remember, and he almost wanted to slap himself when he realised what had happened last night. And he couldn’t even blame scotch for it, since he’d barely downed one glass. Bloody, bloody hell.

He drew in a long breath before sitting up as quietly as he could manage and looking over at Trewlove. _WPC_ Trewlove. That was who she was, and the fact that she was Shirley as well wasn’t any excuse.

She was still asleep, at least _hopefully_ , and Morse had no intentions of waking her up now. _God_. What had he been _thinking_?

Morse scolded himself internally the whole time he spent looking for a spare blanket - he did find one eventually, and the closet door didn’t creak as loudly as he’d feared. He glanced at Trewlove one more time before grabbing his pillow and walking to the bathroom with them.

As he got comfortable in the bathtub - if you could even remotely call it that, as it was a very stiff and cramped place to be, and his every joint seemed to be protesting from the moment he’d laid down - he had to do his best to resist the urge to just bury his head in the pillow and start crying at how bad he was at making decisions.

She was working under him, technically. Even if nobody was going to blame him for taking advantage (Trewlove the least, her being the one to want it first, _right?_ ), it was still very unprofessional. Morse _knew_ he shouldn’t have been letting lust and desperation lead him like that, but it had happened anyway. While they were working. The case didn’t seem very simple, and they really needed to focus on every detail to solve it. How could he, now that he probably wouldn’t even be able to face Trewlove when morning came?

Morse didn’t get much sleep that night, and he cursed himself for not checking the time when he’d woken up. He’d just have to wait for the alarm to go off, then, hope he’d hear it through the too-thin walls. He didn’t particularly appreciate the sounds of water circulating in the pipes, but if that was what it took to do the right thing, then so be it.

Eventually, the alarm rang. He heard Shirley get up, then go down the stairs. He waited over ten minutes before getting up and following her.

“Good morning”, Trewlove said, when she caught sight of him. She was boiling water for tea, and she looked a lot more well-rested than Morse had, when he’d seen his reflection in the dusty mirror. Maybe it was because she’d slept in a bed.

Morse nodded, and did his best not to stare at his feet as he made his way to the kitchen, but he couldn’t exactly look at Trewlove, either. He needed toast.

She didn’t address the fact that he’d vanished, and Morse was immensely grateful. Of course, he had to go and ruin it for himself right away.

“Are you on contraceptives?” Morse blurted out, right in the middle of opening the fridge to get the butter out. The totally unimpressed look Trewlove gave him made him almost flinch, and a blush quickly spread from his forehead to his cheek and down to his _chest_.

"Yeah”, Trewlove said. “Wouldn’t get very far without.”

“... right”, Morse muttered. Trewlove looked puzzled for a moment, but went back to making tea with a shrug.

Morse didn’t manage to say anything to her the rest of the morning without cracking up to nervous, shameful laughter in the middle of doing so, and when he finally left to go teach a classful of posh kids, it felt like he was running away. He did nod a lot when she spoke to him, but he just wasn’t able to get any words out himself. It was alright. It was _going_ to be. That’s what he hoped for, at least.

(He slept in the tub for the rest of their time at the school, just in case. Trewlove didn’t try to convince him otherwise.)

**Author's Note:**

> This got out of hand and I love the end result. I had no idea that this pairing could work but apparently it did!
> 
> Please comment if you liked!! I appreciate it a lot :D


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